Once again, I’ve been tagged for the “8 Things You Didn’t Know About Me” meme, this time by Glenna over at aFFoF. Although I’ve already done it once, I’ll do it again, this time with 8 new things, of course. I just won’t tag anyone this time (especially because the last time I did it most of those I tagged didn’t respond).
Hmmmmm . . . . let me see . . .
1. When laying on my stomach, I can almost curl my feet far enough to touch my head. When I was a kid, I could bend back far enough to touch the toes of my Keds to my nose. At the time, I had no idea it was a variation on a yoga pose, called King Cobra.
3. I was such a voracious reader as a kid that more than once I was grounded from books (because I would neglect homework, chores, etc. just to read). At one point, it got so bad that, when we had D.E.A.R. (drop everything and read) time in school, as per my mother’s explicit request, my teacher would pull my book out of her desk, hand it to me, and then take it back at the end of the period, which was the only time I was allowed to have a book in my hands.
4. I do not like the number 4. No, really. If I believed in luck, it would be my unlucky number.
5. The long, red blotch on the back of my neck is a birthmark. It’s part of the reason that up until now I’d never had hair short enough that you could see it all the time; I was a little sensitive about it as a kid, I suppose in part because more than once a teacher made me sit out of recess thinking that I was over-heated and had developed heat rash.
6. When I was in high school, the shirts in my closet were arranged first by sleeve length and then in color order. My pants were arranged by material and then color, and skirts by length and color. Dresses were in the back, just by sleeve length. I’m not really all that organized all the time; I err toward the messy side. But every now and then, a flurry of obsessive behavior takes over and I do something like refolding and reorganizing every pair of socks I own, or alphabetizing all my books or CDs, while ignoring the fact that there is miscellaneous junk strewn about everywhere else. I’m sure there’s some psychological diagnosis for that.
7. I once got into an argument with my friend Nate because he called me a picky eater, which I resented. On the contrary, I consider myself very adventurous — I usually say I’ll try anything twice. [Hence my excitement this morning about this article in the Metro, on page 14 — crickets, anyone?] His argument was based on the fact that the foods I dislike are usually foods Americans love: ketchup, marshmallows, pudding, sloppy joes, barbecue sauce, chocolate for breakfast . . . yick. I think the conclusion we came to is that I may be peculiar, but I’m not picky. I mean, come on, I’ve eaten ostrich, and ants, and jellyfish, . . .
8. [You know, this gets harder to do once you’ve already done it . . .] I can wiggle my ears, flare my nostrils rapidly and voluntarily, and contort my tongue a few different ways (including tying knots in cherry stems). Ok, ok, this one’s a little lame, but I bet you didn’t know those things, and I’m plumb out of ideas. Gimme a break.
Whew. I’m done! Anyone who reads this, who’s never been tagged and wants to participate, congrats — you’re it.